


The Pursuit

by Dragontrill



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragontrill/pseuds/Dragontrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam end up on the Tardis, much to Sam's delight and Dean's disgust. Problems arise, however, when they realize the Tardis is being followed by something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> I knew it was only a matter of time before I caved and wrote something for Supernatural. I don’t know how the Winchester boys ended up on the Tardis or where they’re going or anything. I just had this one snippet pounding in my brain while I was walking home from the store and it wouldn’t let me go until I wrote it down.

Sam was in nerd heaven.

Dean couldn’t really blame him. This weird-ass blue box thing they were in looked like some sort of stoner junkyard with all the trailing wires and blinking lights, but it was bigger on the inside than the outside and according to the weirdo who owned it, that was due to science instead of magic. Dean was tempted to shove a stake through his heart, just to make sure he wasn’t a trickster - though that meant he needed some of the blood of one of the dude’s victims, and as far as he could tell, this Doctor jerk didn’t have any - but Sam was bonding. 

They were both going on in some conversation that didn’t involve words with less than three syllables, and if Sammy didn’t stop soon, Dean was pretty sure he’d hear him start squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Hey, Samantha!” he yelled. “Stop acting like it’s a sleepover and you want the guy to braid your hair!”

Sam gave him one of his patented bitch faces while the Doctor beamed. “You like to braid your hair? So do I. I like braids. Braids are cool.”

“Dean’s just being a jerk,” Sam said. “Ignore him. He thinks a cassette deck is the pinnacle of technology.”

“It is!” Dean protested. They started in on the geeky science crap again, however, and he wandered around the circle of the room they were in, staring at the junk that filled it. He hadn’t known they’d end up somewhere like this today, and he didn’t like it. For all the beeping and whirring and other sounds, it was too quiet in here. Too filled with bright lights that ended up casting strange shadows. He wasn’t used to quiet and in his experience, when strange happened, disaster followed. Sammy might have been about to have a science orgasm, but Dean still kept feeling like the other shoe was going to drop, right on his head, and turn out to be the type with teeth.

Sure enough. When they were halfway to where-the-fuck, another light lit up on the big circular console with all the telephones and whirligigs glued to it, and the Doctor suddenly started to look a lot less happy. 

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“What?” Sam asked. “What can’t be good?”

The Doctor started to run around the console, pausing to turn a dial or pump a lever or whatever every few seconds, Sammy running after him with his long legs and tripping over him every time the Doctor turned to go the other way, keeping up an ongoing stream of techno-babble that went straight over Dean’s head the whole time.

Dean really didn’t give a damn what he was saying. He only cared enough to know that something was happening and he wanted to know what it was so that he could make sure it didn’t end up killing him or his brother. He supposed he’d protect the Doctor too if he had to, but not if he tried to look under the hood of his baby again while muttering something about gremlins.

“What the hell is it?” he demanded, ratcheting a salt round into the shotgun he was carrying. He had the Colt tucked into his pants and against his back.

The Doctor made a face. “I don’t like guns,” he observed, with an expression as if he found Dean to be something rather icky.

Sam interrupted before Dean could start yelling. “Doctor, what’s happening? We need to understand.”

“Oh, yes, well, you see, the detector alarms have gone off. Doesn’t happen much. Actually, I don’t think its ever happened.”

“Detector?” Dean asked. “Are you about to hit something?” He didn’t say ‘fly into’. He’d spent this entire time thinking about anything other than the idea that they were flying. The Doctor had said they weren’t flying. Dean hadn’t listened to the explanation of what they were doing. He just latched onto the idea that it wasn’t flight. 

The Doctor pumped on a lever while an increasingly loud buzzer sounded in the room. The alarm was growing louder as well, which Dean couldn’t see as a good sign. “Oh, no, definitely not. That would be the impact detector. This is the detector that says something is out there.”

Sam’s face fell. “Something’s out there.”

“Well, yes, I just said that. Let me see if I can get a look at it....”

Sam wasn’t finished. “Something’s out there. But you said that the TARDIS was travelling through space and time. You’re saying something is following us through that?”

“No.” The Doctor looked straight at him. “I’m saying it’s gaining.”

“Son of a Bitch,” Dean muttered and put himself between Sam and the door.

The Doctor was still babbling and hopping around the console, pushing buttons like a rabbit on speed. “Here we go, here we go, I think I can get a visual on it. Have to set some filters up. It’s across half a dozen different dimensions, more than the human mind can process. Give me a right headache. Blow the two of your heads right open. Instant insanity. Very cool. No, wait. Not cool. Very bad.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, both sharing identical, unhappy, but prepared expressions. “I hate this place already,” Dean muttered.

“Alright, filters up, directional modifiers enabled,” He kicked the side of the console. “and counter sequencing ready. Let’s see what you look like, you beauty.”

An image appeared in the air over the console, covering and obscuring the pillar that reached to the ceiling. Dean stared at it, not even sure what he was looking at for the first few seconds.

His first stunned thought was that it was a winged oil slick, black with a rippling sheen of red, green, blue, and god knew how many other colours dancing across it. A moment later, he could see it had more bulk than that. It was thin, and long, with arms curled up at its sides and no sign of legs that he could be sure of. It had a very long, thick neck with three faces on the end that faced forward and to the sides, all pale and mask still, hairless and expressionless as the rest of it, and the entire body of the thing undulated with every beat of its massive wings. Dean stared at it.

“How big is that thing?” Sam stammered.

“Right now? About the size of a skyscraper. One of the old ones. Well, old to you. Back last century. Which century did I pick you up in again? Ah, yes. Last century to you, in one of the earlier decades. The boring one where no one had enough to eat. Right after the art deco one with the dancing. I liked that decade. They appreciated a good bow tie.”

“Is that thing going to eat us?” Dean yelled.

The Doctor looked affronted. “Well, I hope not.” His expression turned sunny and he snapped his fingers. “Hold on, I’ll ask him not to eat us. And why he’s after us. And where his feet are. I guess he doesn’t need feet when he has wings, but what is he supposed to do with his socks in the morning?”

“Hurry up!” Dean bellowed. It was hard to tell in the display, but that thing looked like it was getting closer.

The Doctor went to scramble with the controls again. Sam tried to help him but likely was just getting in the way. Dean kept a look on the door, figuring any attack would come through that way, unless it did end up swallowing them whole. The entire TARDIS was shaking and a very large part of him wanted to cower in a corner and scream for them to land somewhere, because this was getting more and more like flight to him, complete with the monsters.

“Change the frequency so he doesn’t deafen us.... Just a bit more.... I hope he speaks one of the languages the TARDIS knows. It’ll translate anything I say to him, you know. It’s very cool.”

“Just hurry up,” Sam said.

“Impatient, impatient.” The Doctor flipped a switch and suddenly the control room was filled with a loud sound that pierced through Dean’s brain and made him clap his hands over his ears, even as he recognized it and stared at the creature on the display.

“Oh, he’s singing!” the Doctor cried. “Isn’t it lovely? Oh, wait, he’s angry at us. At me. He’s angry at me.” He looked up from whatever display he was reading at Sam. “He thinks I’ve kidnapped the two of you.”

Dean let his hands drop, staring at the angel. “Cas?” he whispered.


End file.
